gsguidefandomcom-20200215-history
Mythrak
Myth Othist & the Steel Guard The following is excerpted with permission from The Lives of the Western Elanthians, Great and Humble: 5060-5108, a tome of history scribed in exile by the Loenthran scholar Brandain Mithrais Dryxthorin-Desiderio. The excerpt is from Volume III: The Empire of Turamzyrr. In the northern reaches of the Empire under Hannelas, trade between Human merchants and the various territories that extend beyond the Imperial writ necessitated the emergence of a class of freebooting mercenary who, banding together in loosely organized companies, hires his sword to defend caravans of goods en route to the frontier from the sundry orcs, trolls, goblins and other wild creatures that roam the untamed lands of Western Elanith. One such company, known as the Steel Guard, is concerned in the lives of four generations of the Othist family. Founded in 5038 by the aging warrior Merrick Othist, the company was known far and wide for the rare combination of a terrifying ferocity in battle with uncompromising honesty. Merrick, a veteran campaigner against the Horned Cabal, had been unjustly discharged from service in the Imperial army after a fatal incident in a tavern brawl, and determined to set up a mode of life for his progeny independent of the vagaries of Imperial law. The chief beneficiary of this man's labours was indeed his young son Errick Othist, who was raised on the campaign trail and became a fierce warrior in his own right. Although it is a mercenaries' tradition that the company is led by one man only with the unanimous approval of those who serve under him, and that any man may challenge his leader to fight for his place in command at any time, Errick was chosen without argument to lead the Steel Guard when his father finally laid down his arms at the age of 71. In the year 5058, while travelling as commander of the Steel Guard, Errick Othist fathered a daughter, Mari Othist; in 5061, he sired a son, Myth; both children were raised on campaign as Errick had been reared by his own father, and both learned combat at the knee of some of the most courageous, reckless and wild fighting men on the frontier. The young Myth Othist was a simple youth who never learned to read or write, but was possessed of tremendous integrity and bravery, always leaping first into the fray and frequently exposing himself to great injury as he thought only of the safety of his comrades and not his own. He was also passionately devoted to his older sister Mari who, as well as being proficient in the arts of war, had a quick and agile mind that took to all manner of study. In 5077, when Errick Othist was feathered with arrows in an ambush some distance to the north of Talador, his son instinctively took hold of his father's massive greatsword and assumed command of the company in order to repel the assault. Though only sixteen years of age, the youth was a mighty force on the field, and his wild, roaring, bellowing leadership, barrelling headlong ahead of his comrades into masses of the enemy, so impressed the Steel Guard that when Errick's injuries proved crippling, leadership of the company again passed bloodlessly into the hands of the younger Othist. In truth though, the company was led in tandem by Myth and his sister, the former commanding the respect and loyalty of the men while the latter set her studious mind to work on maximizing the efficiency and profit of the company's activities, and it prospered beyond all recognition. However, Mari's mind was too nimble to be content with mere accounting, and her own studies began to turn to the subject of magic. Myth knew nothing of the subject, and when his sister used to speak of such-and-such a cantrip or a warding spell, he always would nod and say "If it do keep the men safe from harm, then we shall all be grateful for it," but he felt she wasted her time at the study of spellcraft, believing that all a fighting man needed was a heavy blade in his hand and a stout companion at his side. It came to pass that in the year 5082 the Steel Guard were escorting a trader in fine gemstones towards the Dwarves in their mountain homes, and were ambushed by a band of territorial centaur, firing at the company from atop a hill. As her brother rallied his men to charge the enemy's position, Mari saw an opportunity to prove the efficacy of her magical research, and mounted the cart where the company's archers stood to provide cover for the swordsmen's assault. Weaving a cantrip that should have warded Myth and his men from the hail of arrows, she was suddenly struck by a sense of great foreboding, and saw that something was going to go terribly wrong. Rather than shield the air above her brother's force, the lattice of air that took shape began to crumble and rain down upon them, forcing the men to their knees with invisible battering blows to the head and shoulders. Filled with dread, she attempted desperately to reach out with the threads of magic she still held, but the mana lashed back at her and engulfed the cart where she stood in flames of essence. Crushed by the failed warding and suddenly having no cover for their charge, Myth's men were being shredded by the arrows from the centaurs whose hue and cry across the field spoke of victory. Othist knew, though, that his men would follow him anywhere, and he began to bellow his warcries and leapt to his feet. He did not look back to see that they rallied behind him, but merely charged, roaring, through the deadly rain and somehow reached the enemy's lines with some of his force intact. Suddenly faced with such a force of men among them, their foes wheeled and fled the field instead of standing to face the bloody, battered, maniacal band of mercenaries. The company were not broken by this tragedy, but they were weakened, having lost many good men. Their leader, now twenty-one and deprived of his sister's guidance, told his men that a new rule would govern the Steel Guard. He decreed that no act of magic, no objects of magic, and no persons connected with the practice of magic was allowed any traffic with them, and that any man found in offense against this rule would be subject to expulsion or death, for the good of them all. Deprived as he was of the sharp reasoning of his sister in the governance of the company, Othist's difficulties were compounded by a new responsibility: the rearing of Mari's young son Jerrick, now 3 years of age and motherless. As the years passed the fortunes of the Steel Guard fell from the heights they had reached under Mari's guidance, but they lived well and led a good, honest existence travelling the untamed regions. Jerrick grew up as his mother and uncle had done, and their father before them, and became an accomplished fighter. Myth grew older, but his prowess in battle was undiminished. The routine of life in the company was fairly unaltered until the summer of 5104. Myth, now 45 and a grizzled, scarred veteran of many campaigns, had brought his men safely back to the northern regions of Turamzyrr from a long contract escorting representatives of a Taladoran consortium to Ta'Loenthra where commerce between East and West was fluorishing. Jerrick, now 25 and a strong-willed, ambitious man, approached his uncle in his room with a proposal, accompanied by a half-dozen of the company's fighters. Their conversation went along these lines: "Uncle, I have a contract for us. I have been speaking to a man who needs protection for a convoy of goods going north. They are extremely precious, and he is anxious to have the best possible guards; the money will be excellent." "And who be this man, Jerrick? What manner of goods?" "You won't like it, Uncle, so I may as well tell you now. He is a mage, and the goods are magical devices. But I think you should know..." "No." "Uncle..." "No. I tell you no, it is against the rule." "The rule makes no sense. I've told the men what he's offering, and they all think we should do it." At this point, one of the men who accompanied Jerrick, a veteran who had fought for Myth over many campaigns, spoke up. "Captain, think of the money. It will be like the old days, before... Well, before times got tougher for us. We don't make half what we used to, and the men could do with more." "It is against the rule," he pronounced. "Damn the rule," said Jerrick. "It is a bad rule, and it's losing us money." A quiet settled over the room as Myth looked up at his tall, fair nephew, seeing Mari's features in the young man's face. "You should let me take charge," Jerrick said into the silence. "I lead," he replied. "The men don't want you anymore. You're an old man, and too hard-headed. Let me run affairs, Uncle, and this company will be rich again. You stay in the field where you belong." Myth's old comrade again spoke up. "We don't want you gone, Myth. Lead us in battle, and let the young fellow run the business side. We're not cut out for that, you and I. He's his mother's son, let him...--" "He is his mother's son," came Myth's firm reply as he stood up. "And what became of her?" Jerrick ruefully shook his head. "I'm sorry, Uncle. I didn't want it to come to this, but I see it must. I am challenging you to lead the Steel Guard. You can choose the weapons." Myth looked across at the hard, set face of his sister's son and found he could not look at him anymore. He turned his gaze away. "You know I will no lift my hand against you, Jerrick. Never." "But you must, Uncle, or give up your position. I have challenged you -- this is the way." But Myth looked away from his nephew's face, and turned his eyes instead on the men who stood behind him -- stout companions, hard men who had followed him into the terror of battle against unwinnable odds, who had fought with him, bled with him, nearly died with him time after time, and always stood ready to follow where he led; but now, who stood ranged against him behind the only man alive he could not harm in defense of his convictions. Myth Othist did not speak as he turned and walked, forlorn, in a shuffling, heavy step past his sister's son, his only living blood-kin; nor did he speak as he endured the guilty, downcast expressions of his old companions; no words passed from his lips when the old campaigner lost his nerve and called out his leader's name as he left the room; he did not speak as he made his way to the stores and took out the heaviest, the mightiest of his blades, and filled several packs with provisions; and I do not think he spoke at all as he left the camp, left his whole life behind him, an old man, homeless and alone, and set off without direction for parts that were to him as yet unknown. Category:Platinum Profiles